Little patches of yellow started appearing all over our yard this week.
You have to understand we bought this house on December 3 of last year. Winter (well, late Fall actually). We knew the property had a lot of tress (mostly pine and poplars), a weeping willow tree along the stream that flows through the front yard and a whole bunch of rhododendrons.
OK. Morning status check.
Head: Mostly clear. Not as much congestion as the day before.
Nose: Still running like an open fire hydrant.
Fever: Down, finally.
Chest: Sore from coughing.
Prognosis: The will to live has returned. Juryâ€™s still out on she who gave me this cold. I may let her live. Or maybe not.
The feelings of doom descended late last week when the other half of the household started sneezing and reaching for Kleenex.
A cold, that simple virus that has thwarted medical science since the dawn of man, infected the Thompson abode. I ran for the orange juice and vitamin C tablets, avoided kisses and hoped like hell that fate would not point its fickle finger in my direction.
Yet disaster could not be avoided. Coughs, fever and that general feeling of biologic disruption struck late Monday afternoon and evolved into a full-blown head cold by Tuesday.
Tonight, I face a half-dozen or so students in what will be my first-ever attempt to teach. The course in question is “Introduction to Digital Photography,” a four-week affair at The Jacksonville Center in Floyd.
In my sordid past, I’ve faced wars, unruly mobs, riots, political conventions and Presidential press conferences — and all pale in comparison to the terror to going before a group of students and trying to teach them the basics of photography with a digital camera.
Only took one look at the sky Monday afternoon to see trouble on the way. Rain coming. Lots of rain. More moisture for a ground that is already soaked. Add high wind warnings in effect for most of Tuesday and we have, as the Grateful Dead once said: “Trouble ahead, trouble behind.”